


And They Were His Neighbors (Oh my god they were his neighbors)

by Sunnybone



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Caspar is so tired, Comedy, F/M, M/M, Sleep Deprivation, Swearing, implied LOUD sex, implied sex, most of these ships are background, this is really Ferdibert bc I'm addicted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 17:17:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20295139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunnybone/pseuds/Sunnybone
Summary: *mild spoilers for Black Eagles route*Caspar is extremely tired because his neighbor, Ferdinand, does not seem to understand that the dormitory walls are actuallyquitethin





	And They Were His Neighbors (Oh my god they were his neighbors)

**Author's Note:**

> y'all I'm so sorry for this lmao but as soon as I realized Caspar lived in between these two my third eye snapped _wide_ open

Caspar von Bergliez was _tired_.

He was wholly, achingly, _soul-crushingly_ tired, and all he wanted to do was get a single night of uninterrupted sleep. Just one. Last night he might have had the chance, but he had been on night guard duty, and had been too busy to catch more than a three-hour nap during the day. He would have had night guard again if sweet Bernie, Goddess bless her, hadn't seen how tired he was and taken the shift for him.

The two nights _before_ his guard shift, he should have been able to sleep like a baby, as usual. Except someone, who was his neighbor, who seemed to have very little manners about this sort of thing—Ferdinand, it was Ferdinand—had woken him up at some point in the middle of the night. Not by any courtesy of knocking on his door, like a reasonable person might—oh, no, nothing so kind and gentle as that, Caspar thought from where he lay on his bed, staring painfully at his ceiling.

No, Ferdinand, Most Noble of nobles, only son of his house, next prime minister, kept waking Caspar up by yelling through the walls while someone screwed his brains out. It had been happening several nights a week for the last month.

It was, in fact, happening again, right now, and Caspar was really contemplating smothering himself with his own pillow just to get some peace.

It seemed like an easy fix, right? He should just bang on the wall, or tell Ferdinand the next time he saw him at breakfast, looking chipper and relaxed and well-rested, that he was murdering Caspar slowly with his sex-yowls. Except Caspar could not look Ferdinand in the eye after hearing the kind of noises the other man made, which were truly hedonistic to an _unholy _degree. The mere thought of Ferdinand _knowing_ he knew that kind of thing gave him heart palpitations from embarrassment.

He had considered, maybe, letting the girl who was apparently pulling Ferdinand's soul out through his dick nightly know that the walls were not as thick as they apparently thought, but he couldn't figure out who she was. Not Bernie, obviously, because then he might have to kill Ferdinand, and not Edelgard because then Hubert would, if only on principle. He didn't think Petra was close with Ferdinand like _that_, and Dorothea _might _make someone screech that way, but she seemed more interested in Edelgard to be honest. Ferdinand wasn't too close with any of the other girls who had defected to the Empire, except Marianne, and the thought of sweet, gentle, shy Marianne coaxing those sort of noises out of _anyone_ made Caspar long for death.

So he had no idea who the lucky lady tormenting him nightly was, and thus no course but to suffer until he withered away. Lorenz, Ferdinand's roommate on the other side, was lucky enough to have a staircase's worth of stone between their rooms, and he walked around looking as fresh as a fucking rose. Caspar, on the other hand, was beginning to look downright ill.

So now he was lying in bed, staring at his ceiling, wishing for death in a half-haze—his or Ferdinand's, at this point it didn't matter—and contemplating what he could do to soundproof his room. He only needed to cover the one wall, after all, right? He turned his head to look at the wall in question—and froze.

His eyes, bloodshot and heavily under-bagged, very slowly went wide. He turned his head towards the opposite wall. From which, he realized, the offensive sound was coming.

That. Was Hubert's room.

Caspar sat up, clutching his head. Oh, hell. What the fuck was Ferdinand thinking, screwing some girl in _Hubert fucking von Vestra_'s room? Was he, perhaps, drunk? Was that a thing Ferdie did now? The horribly loud sex thing was new and terrible, so it was possible! It didn't much matter, because if Hubert found out—and let's face it, he probably would, it was _Hubert_—he was going to _actually_ murder Ferdinand. Knowing Hubert, he had a plan laid out already. And if Edelgard, who lived on the other side of Hubert, heard...

Ohhhh, Caspar did _not _want to do this.

He did not want to go bang on Hubert's door and tell Ferdinand and his crazy mystery girl they were courting death. It was their own fault, after all, if they got caught! ...But Ferdinand was also his friend, unfortunately, and also a very important asset in the war. Caspar would, maybe, someday, feel guilty for having let him get himself killed. At the very least, it would probably haunt his nightmares.

So, he pulled his tired body out of the bed, threw on a shirt and some pants, and steeled himself. He was Caspar von Bergliez. He was a force of nature. He could do this. He scrubbed his hands over his face and then stepped out of his room, down the hall to Hubert's door, and raised his fist. He cringed as Ferdie made a particularly loud noise which he heard clear through the door, and then started hammering away with all the strength of a highly skilled brawler.

The noises ceased, thankfully, but then there was a loud thudding and a bunch of rustling, and he could hear low tones that sounded a lot like swearing. Caspar braced himself, waiting, planning the tirade for when Ferdinand opened the door, because he had to be ready before he met the other man's eyes and the tidal wave of embarrassment hit.

He heard the door being unlocked, and then the knob turned and the door opened just enough to admit a view of the person within—

Caspar found himself clutching his chest with a wheeze as he faced, not Ferdinand, but Hubert, in a state of hurried dress that mirrored Caspar's and with his hair mussed in a way that screamed Was Absolutely Just Fucking. That was all enough to shock Caspar, but it was the big red love-bite showing through the open collar of Hubert's uncharacteristically rumpled shirt that really kicked Caspar in the solar plexus like a horse and robbed him of his breath.

“What? Why are you banging on my door like that, Caspar? Has something happened?” Caspar could only stare at him, still clutching his chest.

“I think I need to go to the infirmary.”

“What,” was Hubert's only response, confused and deadpan, but at the same moment Ferdinand appeared at his shoulder, pushing around to peer at Caspar with concern. He was even more disheveled.

“Do you require assistance, Caspar?” He sounded deeply concerned, and as ever ready to help a friend. It was terrible.

“Actually, just let me die here.” Hubert looked for a second like he was considering it, but Ferdinand's brows shot up and he pushed past him into the hallway.

“We most certainly will not, Caspar! Come, Hubert, help me escort him to the infirmary.” Ferdinand got hold of Caspar under one arm, and Hubert sighed before stepping out of his room and joining Ferdinand, catching Caspar under the other arm. “Be strong, Caspar!” This actually startled a horrible, crazed little laugh out of him, and it seemed to keep Ferdinand from saying anything else as they helped him out of the dorm and all the way to the infirmary.

It really probably was a good thing they helped, there were an awful lot of stairs along the way and he wasn't really feeling up to them.

When they got to the infirmary and knocked, they were lucky enough to find Manuela awake rather than passed out in a drunken heap—though she hastily shoved an empty bottle of wine into a desk drawer, following it with another still-open bottle that was half-full.

“How can I help you boys?” She asked, and Hubert pointedly looked at Caspar nearly slumped between them.

“It seems Caspar has been struck ill,” Ferdinand said, and Manuela gestured for them to deposit Caspar on one of the infirmary beds. He sat, gratefully, with a heavy thump, and then she was checking his pulse and pulling back his eyelids to shine a bright magical light in his eyes.

“My dear, when was the last time you got a full night of sleep? You look ready to collapse.” Caspar felt the horrible laugh bubble up again, and pushed it down with difficulty. “You should have come in as soon as you started having trouble sleeping.”

“Were you gonna fix my walls?” She stared at him for a moment.

“I'm sorry?” she asked, confused but patient, used to treating patients who weren't all there in the moment.

“My walls. They're _thin_.” Behind Manuela, he saw Ferdie's eyes widen a bit, before the man went completely tomato red. That was not surprising, but Hubert next to him, arms crossed and suddenly pink, was almost enough to set him wheezing again.

“Ah. Apologies, Caspar; we were unaware.” Hubert somehow managed to make it sound like he was apologizing for a minor inconvenience, like scheduling a picnic on a day when it turned out to rain.

“Well that's a relief,” Caspar said, and Ferdinand made a choked sort of noise. Manuela turned to look at them over her shoulder, and Caspar saw her eyes rake up and down each of them, taking in their rumpled states and probably, most definitely, noticing the murderous hickey.

“Well,” she drawled, in that almost sultry way of hers, “at least I don't have to lecture you boys about Being Careful.” Ferdinand's mouth opened and closed like a fish, and Hubert gave her a glare most often seen on the battlefield. She just smiled at them teasingly and turned back to Caspar. “You can sleep in here tonight, dear—it's nice and _quiet_.” Caspar could almost have kissed her; as it was, he settled for a grateful whimper and climbed fully onto the bed at her gesture. He didn't even protest much when she insisted on tucking him in, and by the time Hubert had dragged a still mortified Ferdinand out of the infirmary he was passed out.

Manuela sat back down at her desk, retrieved the bottle of wine—which had only spilled a little into her drawer—and sat back to chuckle quietly to herself about The Young.

+

Some years later, at a small reunion of the Black Eagle Strike Force, Dorothea turned to Caspar with a sudden look of curiosity as they stood off to the side of the group refilling their drinks.

“Caspar, what ever happened with you and Lin?” At his confused look of incomprehension, she continued. “I mean, why'd you break up? You were so close, it was kind of a surprise when you split. I mean, not that I'm complaining,” she added quickly at his confused shock, “I think you and Bernie are wonderful together, and Lin and Byleth, too; I'm just curious.”

“I'm. What? I was never—we _never_ dated.”

“Caspar,” she said, in a half-admonishing, half-disappointed tone. “You moved into his room before the end of the war, it wasn't like it was a secret. You don't have to hide it. I remember you perked up so much.”

Caspar felt the color drain from his face as he remembered begging Linhardt to let him sleep on his floor because he could not handle living between Ferdinand and Hubert anymore, even if they were suddenly very quiet. Linhardt, who was his best friend in the whole world, and who also valued sleep above nearly all things, had not refused. Caspar, finally able to sleep peacefully again, had obviously sprung back to his old boisterous self.

He could see how this had been so wholly misinterpreted.

“Ok, Dorothea, no. You have this all twisted up. I mean, yeah, I moved in with Linhardt, but not like _that_.” The idea of dating Linhardt was _weird_—He and Byleth were his kids' godparents, it was _that_ kind of weird. “I just wanted a change of neighbors. That's all I'm gonna say about that.” Dorothea looked incredibly curious now, and thoughtful, too. After a second, she turned towards the table where their fellows still sat and looked at Ferdinand, who was talking with Petra, one arm slung across the top of the back of Hubert's chair.

“Ferdie,” she called, and Caspar felt the horror dawn as Ferdinand turned a questioning gaze upon her, “you were Caspar's neighbor, right? Were you the one who made him move?” Ferdinand suddenly turned about as red as Caspar felt, and Hubert sighed.

“We _did_ apologize for not knowing the walls were so thin.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always thanks so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed it. ;U;
> 
> Find me on Twitter [@AceMorningStar](https://twitter.com/AceMorningStar)


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